Rereading reveals the intertextual correspondences between the books of 2666 (the five books proper, the “Parts,” of course, but also the texts, invented or real, that those books house).Ģ666 is also a book about writing. Rereading is one way of stepping back to see the bigger picture that Bolaño twists together from smaller fragments. (I’m looking at you Moby-Dick).Įven a riff should have a thesis, and here’s mine: 2666 has a reputation for being fragmentary and inconclusive-and in some ways, yes, of course it is-but a second full reading of 2666 reveals a book that is cohesive, densely allusive, and thematically precise.

Most of the time, rereading confirms the greatness of the novel, a greatness inhabiting the smallest details. (I’ve read Blood Meridian at least once a year since the first time I read it, and it keeps getting funnier and funnier). Sometimes we find new tones that seemed impossible on the first run through. (Imagine my horror rereading Lolita in my twenties to discover the vein of evil throbbing through it). Sometimes we might find we’ve thoroughly misread them. Truly excellent novels are always better in rereading: richer, fuller, more resonant. Like many readers, I aim to reread more than I actually end up rereading. This is how I ended up rereading 2666 straight through. At some point in Imperial, probably at some mention of coyotes or polleros-smugglers of humans-I felt a tug in the back of my brain pan, a tug that wanted to pull up Roberto Bolaño’s big big novel 2666-also on my Kindle (also an illicit copy, although I bought the book twice). It’s just easier to read that way, especially at night. I bought the book in paperback and then put an illicit copy on my Kindle (this riff is not about the ethics of that move).

Wolf Hustle by Cin Fabré